


be known in its aching

by erebones



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Anal Sex, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Reunion Sex, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-22
Updated: 2019-04-22
Packaged: 2020-01-24 03:37:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18563122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erebones/pseuds/erebones
Summary: Fjord returns after a lonely, fruitless trip to a warm bed and welcoming arms.





	be known in its aching

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't posted anything in forever so I finished this up and called it good. Title from Wasteland, Baby!
> 
> This is a followup to summer's dance, but that doesn't necessarily have to be read first to appreciate that ;)

It’s raining when Fjord finally rides back through the gates of Zadash. It’s _been_ raining, steadily for a few hours, drizzling off and on before that, and he’s soaked to the bone. He sits in his saddle like a lump of driftwood, sodden through armor and clothing, teeth grinding together so hard they creak in their casings.

He’s in a sour mood, and not just because he’s cold and wet. Getting back into the city is a chore—he withstands about ten minutes of droning questions before flipping the guard his last gold piece and clucking his horse forward. The hood of his cloak plasters itself to his forehead as he counts out the contents of his purse. There’s no way he’s getting into the nice part of town looking like this, and even if he burned a bit of magic to bluff his way into the Pillow Trove he sure as hell doesn't have the coin to pay for a room. With a sinking heart and an empty, gnawing belly, he turns Shelby’s head toward the Leaky Tap.

A sad, irritable part of him wonders if he should bother reaching out to the Nein at all. He hasn’t had word all week from any of them, even Jester, who had been putting her new _sending_ spell to frequent and gleeful use before he left. Even as he’d wandered, seeking news, he’d always stayed up a little late in the evenings, waiting for a voice in his head to reassure him his friends were thinking of him. And every night he drifted off alone, into the prison of his own mind where dreams plagued his rest. 

He shivers and pulls his cloak around himself a little tighter. A part of him had been hoping to find Caleb immediately, pull him aside and… _and what?_ he wonders. The flickering light of the Leaky Tap spills across the cobbles in front of him and he barely notices, caught up in the self-pity dogging his heels as he steers Shelby toward the stables. _Did you think he would be pining for you, like you were for him? You bedded him—poorly—and fled immediately. He probably thinks very ill of you now._

His heels clatter against the wet cobbles when he dismounts. The stable boy looks about as awake and motivated as Fjord feels, and he doesn’t have enough spare change to tip him, so Fjord handles Shelby’s tack himself, scrubbing her damp hide down afterward. She seems unbothered by the chill, now that they’re out of the rain, and munches contentedly on the provided hay as Fjord hangs her saddle blanket over the stall door to dry. He spares a longing look for the contents of her trough. If only he could subsist on hay and oats. Hell of a lot cheaper.

“You need anythin’ else sir?” the stable boy pipes as he makes to leave. Fjord eyes him, scrawny and anxious, and sighs. 

“Just keep her feed full, will you? She’s come a long way.” He tosses the kid a few copper and hunches his shoulders against the rain as he makes for the inn. 

Warm air washes over him as he steps inside, and for the first time all day the hard knot between his shoulder blades begins to ease. He wipes rainwater from his face and makes a beeline for the table closest to the roaring hearth. He doesn’t even care about food or bed right now—all he wants is to be warm. 

He’s peeled his sopping cloak off and is gently steaming by the fire, waiting on an order of ale and meat pie, when he notices a familiar tickle at the back of his throat. He turns and sneezes as quietly as he can into the crook of his elbow. It’s probably just the cold and wet—just his luck. Then he turns back to the fire and sees the cat. Hunched over on the hearthstone in a loaf shape, eyes half-shut and tail curled politely over his paws.

“Frumpkin,” he blurts out loud from sheer surprise. Overcome with affection, he holds his breath and leans down to scritch him between the ears. Frumpkin allows it—he even starts to purr after a minute, and when Fjord withdraws at the arrival of his meal, Frumpkin gets up and situates himself beneath Fjord’s chair. 

Fjord glances around the common room as he eats, but he sees no familiar red hair, no mysterious hooded figure that could feasibly be Caleb. But the fire has thawed his bones and the food eases the hungry cramping of his stomach, and that’s more than half the battle. 

He’s thinking hazily about ordering another ale before going up to bed when the door opens, admitting a draft and a swirl of bad weather—and, on the heels of rainwater, a cloaked figure. His gut tightens suddenly with nerves. Under his chair, Frumpkin lets out a happy chirp and trots across the common room, weaving beneath tables and around the legs of strangers, to arrive at his master’s side just as Caleb is sweeping his hood back.

Fjord drinks him in. Ensconced by the fire, his cheeks warm readily at the sight of him, slender despite the bulky cloak, his hair curling damp around his face as he approaches the innkeeper. Words are exchanged, and then Caleb’s sharp eyes dart around the room, scanning until they come to rest on Fjord. 

It feels like a taut string has been snapped somewhere inside his chest. Nerves give way to a warm swell of relief and affection, and he pushes back from the table to stand as Caleb approaches. 

“Welcome back,” Caleb says, stopping short just shy of going toe to toe with him. He’s holding something under his arm, Fjord realizes, a package of some sort, kept safe from the rain by the fall of his cloak. “Did you have a fruitful journey?”

Fjord droops a little at the reminder. “Not exactly,” he admits, pushing damp hair back from his face with a cursory hand. “I only made it as far as Trostenwald, and there’s not much news of the coast to be had there. But,” and he shrugs, letting the gesture draw his hand forward, up, until his thumb rests at the crest of Caleb’s cheek. “I’m glad to be back.”

“You’re a sight for sore eyes,” Caleb murmurs, smiling slightly under his beard. 

“You’re too generous.” Reluctantly, he drops his hand. He doesn’t think he’s imagining the flicker of disappointment on Caleb’s face. “Is everyone staying here, then? I expected you to still be at the Trove.”

Caleb shakes his head. “We split up for a little while. I decided to save my coin and take rooms here—Beauregard is spending her evenings at the Cobalt Soul. I believe Jester and Nott are still… enjoying the finer things, at least until their purses run light.” He smiles again, bright and fond. “Will you be staying here, then?”

Fjord thinks of his purse and winces. “Yeah. I’m runnin’ a bit light myself.”

“Have you acquired lodging yet? You should save your funds and room with me.” His eyes glint darkly from beneath his brows. “If you’re so inclined.”

“I don’t… don’t want to intrude…”

“There is no intrusion, Fjord. It was an invitation. The bed is plenty big enough for both of us.” He gives him a meaningful look and steps away, finally giving Fjord room to breathe. The snap of his fingers for Frumpkin makes Fjord startle. “You’re welcome to join me regardless. Last room at the end of the hall.” He passes him another smile and makes for the stairs. Like a fish drawn on the end of a line, Fjord abandons his seat by the fire and follows. 

In the room upstairs, Caleb has already hung his coat on a hook and is going around fastidiously lighting a handful of candles, squat and half-burned already. As Fjord hovers by the door, he hunkers down in front of the hearth and coaxes the fresh logs to light with little gestures. A lock of burnt-umber hair slips from behind his ear and curls against him temple, soft and whimsical. Fjord’s fingers twitch against his side. Like he’s moving underwater, slow, he begins to fumble at the buckles of his armor, his grip stiff and aching with cold. He’s only halfway through the fastenings on the chestpiece when Caleb’s weathered boots scuff into view and ink-stained fingers start to help him shake off leather and steel. 

“You’re soaked to the bone,” Caleb tuts. “Take your boots off and sit by the fire, hmm?”

Fjord hums an assent and lowers himself into the chair there. It’s only wicker and cane, creaking slightly under his weight, but once he’s settled it holds steady. He tips his head back and shuts his eyes, listening to Caleb move about the room. He wants to pay attention, hold him in his mind’s eye, but he’s so tired, and the fire is so warm…

Fingers in his hair startle him out of the first vestiges of a doze. He must jerk or make some noise, because Caleb soothes him with a soft Zemnian word and a hand to his shoulder. “It’s just me, _barchen._ I’m here.”

“Mmmmm.” Fjord’s head lolls back into his touch and Caleb laughs, a soft chuff to match the soft drag of fingertips against Fjord’s scalp. “Feels good.”

“ _Gut_.” There’s a whisper of something, a muttered back-of-the-throat sort of sound, and the press of whiskery lips to Fjord’s brow. “Are you warm enough?”

“Hmn. Could be warmer.”

“Oh yes?” He’s smiling, Fjord can hear it in his voice. His chest swells fit to crack a rib and he lets his heavy eyes flutter open to admire the dark shape of Caleb bending over him, stripped to shirt and stocking feet, his collar loose and open down his chest. “Would you like to move to the bed, perhaps?”

“Yeah. That sounds like a mighty fine idea.” 

With only a little effort, leaning on Caleb’s shoulder a little more than necessary, Fjord allows himself to be hoisted up from the chair. Somewhere between the hearth and the bed he’s divested of his tunic and leggings, and settles against the pillows in nothing but his smalls. The sheets are cool against his bare skin, but blessedly dry; as Caleb tugs the blankets up around him and crawls beneath their weight, Fjord turns into him, arms sliding naturally around his waist. 

“ _Hallo_ ,” Caleb murmurs. He eases closer until they’re nose to nose, belly to belly. Every inhale swells their bodies closer, and Fjord sinks into it like a dream. 

“Missed you,” he admits. His voice sounds gravelly in his own ears with exhaustion and long travel. He slides his palm up Caleb’s spine, under his shirt, and relishes the sharp inhale and slow, giddy exhale as Caleb eyes his mouth. 

“You’re tired,” Caleb says half-heartedly, “you should rest—”

Fjord cuts him off with a kiss. Whatever else Caleb had been intending to say dissolves in an instant as he kisses back, hands climbing up Fjord’s chest to clasp behind his neck. The reedy strength of his grip suffuses Fjord with energy, and he rolls forward until Caleb is beneath him, knees apart to make room for Fjord between them. The wet heat of Caleb’s mouth flows through him like liquid fire and Fjord moans, rucking up his shirt even further. 

“Can I,” he begins, breathless, lips tingling, but Caleb is already fighting his way out of the rest of his clothes. Fjord sits back a little to peel him out of his undergarments and then returns to his embrace, nuzzling in close beneath the coarse hair along his jaw. Caleb’s erection is growing firm against his lower belly and Fjord rocks against it with purpose, relishing the feel of it as it hardens and begins to wick moisture at the tip.

“Fjord, please,” Caleb whispers. His fingers are like claws in the muscle of Fjord’s biceps, cheeks rosy and sweet in the low light. Fjord can’t help kissing him again, hungry, little threads of desperation leaking through. “Fjord—”

“Easy. It’s all right.” He shifts his weight into one elbow and wraps his free hand around Caleb’s dick, giving it a few slow pumps. Precum smears against his thumb and he drags it down the frenulum and up again as Caleb squirms and whimpers. “Been too long since I’ve had a warm body in my bed…”

Caleb huffs and smirks, head tossed back against the pillow as he thrusts up into Fjord’s hand. “That’s all I am to you, hmm? A warm body?”

The deep, full-body warmth suffusing Fjord’s limb crawls up his chest to set his face aflame. “No,” he confesses. He twists his hand in smaller, more concentrated circles around the head, half hoping the contact will distract Caleb from the truth he can’t hide. “You’ve always been more than that, to me.”

“Sweet-talker.” Soft around the eyes, Caleb reaches up and rubs away with crease between Fjord’s brows with his thumb. “Come here.”

Fjord comes. Bends low and kisses him deeply, hand slowing slightly as his focus is pulled in by Caleb’s mouth. In turn, Caleb reaches down, spreading his legs further and coaxing Fjord’s fingers lower. Another wave of heat scorches the nape of his neck and Fjord nips at his lower lip, knuckles firm against Caleb’s perineum. Caleb arches and sighs, panting against his mouth. 

“Good?” Fjord whispers. 

“Mmh.” Caleb’s head tips back further into the pillows and he draws a little rune against the back of Fjord’s hand. A moment later, slickness fills Fjord’s palm, trickling down his fingers to track iridescent shine between Caleb’s thighs. 

Fjord growls and pushes one finger straight into his body, relishing the soft cry and arching back as Caleb presses into it. “So that’s how it’s gonna be,” he murmurs. 

“If—if you’re so inclined,” Caleb gasps. The flush in his cheeks is migrating south as Fjord presses more slick into him, blooming red down his throat and and heaving chest. “You gave me a little taste last time and I haven’t been able to think of anything else.”

Fjord shudders at the memory of his cockhead against Caleb’s hole and presses in a second finger. There’s a bit of resistance, but patience and more slick open him up enough for a third. He’s tenting his smalls by now, trembling as he kisses Caleb breathless, and when Caleb summons the wherewithal to reach down and fondle him through the fabric he barks out a curse and curls his fingers deep.

“Now,” Caleb demands. His nostrils flare on the inhale as Fjord drags his hands away, painstakingly slow. “Now, Fjord.”

He is, as ever, at Caleb’s mercy. Fjord settles back on his heels and pulls Caleb’s hips into his lap, thumbs digging into the soft flesh of his arse. Pink and panting and exposed, Caleb squirms as Fjord shoves his smalls out of the way and rubs the underside of his cock along Caleb’s taint. 

“Tease,” Caleb bites out. He arches his back and gropes for Fjord’s erection with a soft and curious hand. Fjord groans, deep and reverberating in his chest as Caleb drags another sluice of precum out of him and rubs the head against his own hole. “I have to do all the work myself.”

Fjord opens his mouth to protest and nearly bites his tongue clean through as Caleb pulls him forward, easing the head of his cock into his body. He braces himself with shaking arms to either side of Caleb’s head and eases his hips forward a little more, a little more, each breath a deep and rasping ache inside his chest. The heat is overwhelming—with a little gasp he leans down and smears his mouth along Caleb’s throat, breathing him in, tasting the faint burr of salt and rainwater. He lets his teeth scrape faintly against Caleb’s jugular and feels his whole body twitch under his hands. Another inch closer, another inch deeper. Fjord bites down. 

“ _Fjord_ ,” Caleb cries. His nails dig into Fjord’s arms and he holds nice and still, panting, his heartbeat a rabbit-swift flutter against Fjord’s tongue. “Please— _bitte_ , I need you—” The words grind down into dust as Fjord pulls away with a slow sucking sound. The skin left behind is reddened, not quite broken, but gently bruised where his tusks left their mark. A flare of possessiveness burns hot and bright in his gut. 

“Beautiful,” he says without quite thinking about it. He presses the spot with two fingers, watching as Caleb’s flush grows redder, and trails his hand down to squeeze his hip. “Almost there, darlin.”

“I’m ready,” Caleb insists, even as he shudders and gasps for breath, half-impaled on Fjord’s cock. “Come on, before I get bored and ride you instead.”

Fjord laughs and nuzzles his cheek, rocking forward slowly, slowly. “You act like that’s a punishment.” The slightly broader base of his cock stretches Caleb wide and then he’s fully seated, and everything is very still. “Okay?”

“Ja… ja, I’m good. Just a moment.” Caleb’s voice is slightly pinched, but when Fjord tries to pull away Caleb’s fingers dig in deeper and so he stays put, murmuring soft nonsense as Caleb’s trembling body starts to relax. 

“Easy. There you go, just like that. Just breathe, sweetheart.”

“Mmmh.” Caleb exhales all at once and drops his head to the pillow, mouth slack and satisfied. Through heavy-lidded eyes he watches Fjord lean down and press a gentle kiss to his forehead. “You can move now.”

“Sure?”

“Mhmm. Please.” Despite his earlier belligerence, Caleb’s hands reaching up to stroke through Fjord’s hair are gentle and undemanding. Fjord hums and nudges into the touch as he eases back and forward slightly. Caleb’s body clings to him with each subtle motion and he buries a throaty growl into the hard line of Caleb’s shoulder. Patient fingers tug at his hair and Caleb’s lean thighs hug his waist, angling him deeper. “Ja… Fjord, that’s perfect. Like that…”

The praise is like liquid fire in his veins. Fjord whines and coils his hips slow, moving to something a little faster, a little less cautious. When Caleb only hums and urges him on, he resettles his knees against the mattress and moves with purpose. One hand worms its way beneath Caleb’s body to cradle his spine, and with the other he holds Caleb’s head in place as he kisses him. 

It’s a full-body sensation—mouths meeting open and wet, bellies rocking together, the intensity of Caleb’s body around his cock. Each thrust is a little faster than the one before, each stroke a little deeper. Caleb’s panting breaths are soon matched with the soft slap of Fjord’s balls against his ass, the deep thrum of a possessive, satisfied rumble in Fjord’s chest. Caleb is _pack_ , says the quiet voice in the back of his head that he’s spent so long trying to suppress. Caleb is _his_ , at least for right now. At least for this moment. Fjord growls and snaps his hips forward, and Caleb cries out, head thrown back and hands clasping at Fjord’s neck, his shoulders, scrambling for purchase as Fjord chases the edge. 

“Close,” Caleb gasps suddenly. His thumb finds the divot above Fjord’s collarbone where his heartbeat thrums the hardest and presses down like he’s trying to match that rhythm. “Fjord, please, I need to—”

“Yeah. I’ve got you.” Fjord bows his head and grips Caleb’s hips hard enough to bruise, nearly bending him in half as he presses as deeply as he can and rocks there, frenetic and flush with the nearness of orgasm. He can feel his bollocks drawing up, feel the fire in his pelvis as he grinds in place and presses his thumb to Caleb’s perineum. He watches with delirious satisfaction as Caleb jerks and trembles on his cock, and finally cums almost untouched all over his belly and chest. The white of his seed pools in his navel and gleams against his ribs. Fjord hums and bends forward until he can lick it off in broad swathes of his tongue. 

“Fuck,” Caleb rasps, still shivering with the aftershocks. His nails dig into the short hair at the nape of Fjord’s neck and pull him up to his mouth for a kiss. “Finish in me, Fjord.”

Fjord shudders—just those words alone have sunk a deep hook of desire in his gut and _pulled_. He fucks him shallowly, teasing the base of his cock in and out, feeling the rim of his asshole gripping him tight. “You sure?” he murmurs, strained. “I don’t want to—to—”

“ _Please_. Let me feel you. You won’t hurt me, _liebling_.”

Caleb’s hand at his nape is commanding, like the focus in his dark eyes. Fjord whines and captures his lips in a kiss, fucking into him quick and desperate until he finally finds the precipice and spills inside his body. He goes tense and still all over, trying to remember how to breathe. When it’s over he slumps forward and smears his mouth against Caleb’s throat. “Cay… gods…”

“That’s it.” Caleb squirms his thighs wider and rubs one heel against Fjord’s calf. “Good?”

“Haaah.” Fjord exhales a deep, warm sigh and kisses the livid mark he’d bitten into him. “Real good.”

“Feeling warmer?” 

“Mmmh.” With great effort, Fjord rolls onto his side, slipping free of Caleb as he does so. Caleb makes a small, needy noise of complaint and turns toward him, and with a little bit of rearranging they’re soon lying as close as can be, Caleb’s head under Fjord’s chin, Fjord’s arm over Caleb’s chest, their legs tangled under the covers. Fjord’s eyes drift shut even as he mumbles, “Sure you don’t want to clean up?”

“Hm. That’s all right.” Caleb kisses his neck very sweetly. “Prestidigitation is very useful for such things.” 

Fjord goes quiet a moment. “Wait. So last time, when I…”

“When you wiped my arse for me?” Caleb finishes, a hint of unspilled laughter in his voice. Fjord pinches his thigh in retaliation and Caleb giggles into his chest. “I told you you were a tender lover…”

“I just…” Fjord huffs a sigh. “I like to. Take care of you.”

Caleb’s lightly trembling body goes soft and still. “Of me?” he echoes.

Fjord ponders a moment and decides he’s too bone-tired to take it back. “Yeah.” He rubs his mouth and drops his hand back to Caleb’s hip, thumb to his iliac crest. “Sorry. If that’s… not your speed?”

Caleb is quiet for a moment. Then, with care, he takes Fjord’s chin and pulls him into a kiss. It’s not a particularly deep or passionate kiss, but there’s an edge of amorous intent that flares warmth down Fjord’s spine and sets his heart to pounding. He sucks Caleb’s lower lip into his mouth and releases it with a slow, soft _pop_. Caleb smiles faintly at him in the dimness. “It is,” he whispers. “Very much.”

Fjord sighs with something like relief and pulls him closer under the covers. “I’ve admired you for a long time. I don’t think I’ve… exactly made a secret of it. But you should know I ain’t… I haven’t ever expected anything from you.”

“I know.” Caleb regards him from the pillow, nearly nose to nose with him, heart thrumming gently against Fjord’s breast. “To tell you the truth I have not been in a place to, ah… accept or, er, reciprocate anything. But… things change.” He takes a little nervous breath and continues, “I realized that losing you to Lorenzo would have been unbearable. I fought like the nine hells to get you back safe, and now that I have you… I find I don’t want to let you go.” He squeezes Fjord’s waist meaningfully. “Next time you feel the urge to wander… maybe don’t go alone?”

Fjord’s heart swells. “I don’t intend on wanderin’ far again. But I’ll keep it in mind.”

“ _Gut_. That’s all I really ask.” Caleb lifts his hand and strokes a curl of sweaty hair back from Fjord’s brow. “Now go to sleep, _schatz_. You’ve traveled a long road to get here and you’ve earned a bit of rest.”

For answer, Fjord kisses him, smiling against his mouth. Lets the memory of a long and lonely road fade into the distance as before him spreads the future: bright and full of possibility. 


End file.
